When he started hanging them up, and his half of the closet was full, and he still had a pile to go…. I said, “Uh, honey?” He said, “Yeah, hon.” “Ummm, don’t you think you have rather a lot of clothes??” “Well, no. I need these old jeans for working around the house. And these jeans only have a hole in the pocket. And these jeans are my new, good ones. And these old shirts are for working in. And these are my everyday shirts. And these are my church shirts. And these are my “I’m carrying” shirts.”

Okay, he had 9, NINE, pairs of jeans that had holes in the back pockets. And still 5 wearable pair left. So, I asked if he’d just start a pile of things I thought he could get rid of. Then, at the end of the sorting, when he saw how much he still had, he could decide whether to get rid of it or not. Thankfully, heagreed. 9 pair of jeans to donate. (The holes were only in the pocket, so the undies were not exposed. And some knuckleheadspeople PAY for holey jeans!) More power to ’em. Not my husband!

Brand new polo. Never worn. PopPop got a new shirt!

So, every holey shirt went in the discard pile. DUH!! But he put up arguments first!! After I grabbed one, put my finger thru the hole, and ripped the whole arm off, he quit arguing. Huh, I wonder why?? How many gray, holey, T-shirts to work around the house, does 1 man need, anyway?? NONE!! The answer is none!! You can wear one of the slightly stained ones! Because I had asked him before, to get rid of all the holey ones, while we were dating. (Yeah, that whole 45 days! lol) And he said he did. Then lo, and behold, he’d show up wearing one! When I’d point it out, he’d say, “Oh. Well, I thought I threw it out.” So, in other words, his discard pile, and his laundry pile were one and the same. 6 T-shirts in the trash. (We’re up to 15 items, if you’re counting.)

He insisted he keep his Army T-shirt, from his battalion, that had a cuss word on it. Since it’s way too little for him to squeeze into now, I didn’t sweat it. “Of course, honey!! I want you to keep the things that are really meaningful to you!”

After all that trauma, (his, not mine), it was time to move onto coats and jackets. Oh my word, the coats and jackets!! You’d think he was a male model, he had such an extensive wardrobe!!

Somehow, all the purple shirts left the building. I don’t understand!!He did keep his purple HS letter jacket.The “Sorting Station.”AKA, the bed.

He kept the heavy leather one. Why?? “It was handmade for me in Germany.” Ok, and when are you planning the next trip to Germany??

Leave him alone, Melinda. You said he could keep his really meaningful things.

Well, but I…. sputter, sputter…. Okay, fine. But then 4 more have to go!!

He did really well, trimming down this category. He got rid of the 4, count ’em: FOUR, hoodies that he had. Because he hates hoodies. “Then WHY did you have 4 hoodies to begin with???” He couldn’t even tell me. The old hunting jacket, that was too small- see ya! And more boring stuff, that I can’t even remember. He did keep several sweatshirts. Can you guess the color?? Yea-up, gray.

We’re up to 27 items now. Yes! He had 5 coats/jackets, to donate, besides the afore mentioned hoodies!

The growing discard pile.

Then it was undies, and socks time. I was so proud of him!! He willingly gave up all the holey socks!! Without me even saying a word!! So, 5 items there.

32 pieces gone forever!! And I had a whale of a time coloring in my chart!! It counts cuz our stuff had co-mingled already, by this point!

Now, his menswear fits in his half of the small closet. Well, except for the 3 heavy coats in DD1’s office closet!

Lots of blue, and gray. Nary a purple shirt to be seen. (And all my clothes, except for socks, EVEN jammies, and undies!! AND the girls’ church clothes fit in my half! Not bragging or anything. Just saying’.)

My husband’s got a collection of clothing too. Some he wears, and some he keeps “just because.” We purged half of his stuff before moving here, and we’re gonna do another purge in a bit. I know *my* wardrobe is due for a purge soon too. Way too much junk in there I don’t wear anymore.